


colors

by reonjeons



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Arranged Marriage, Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Light Angst, M/M, it's an imaginary case btw, slight visual impairment (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reonjeons/pseuds/reonjeons
Summary: When the world is black and white, comfort becomes almost inexistent. But as Jeno says: "Even the blind can wish upon rainbows."Or, Renjun might not see it, but he thinks Jeno is yellow.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 25
Kudos: 123





	colors

**Author's Note:**

> JUST A HEADS UP: renjun has slight visual impairment

“What color is it today, Sicheng?”

The called attendant came into Renjun’s view in the mirror again, eyes directly at him, “Blue, Your Highness.”

Renjun smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach to his eyes, “Is it beautiful?” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The prince takes the fabric of his robes between his fingers and feels it with his palm, the softness and fragrance of it screams royalty. Renjun traces a finger along the lines of embedded Swarovski beads on his belt, then up to the silky lines crossed on his chest. His clothing felt nice and light, tightly hugging his skin. Although it would’ve been more perfect if he saw the blue it beheld. 

Renjun chuckles. It was too early to be bitter, alright. 

“Your Highness.” Sicheng calls from beside him again, a soft smile formed on his small face, “Your breakfast awaits you.”

Renjun blinks at his reflection. His eyes shining in crystal stared back. It wasn’t a dream.

“Of course.”

The prince turned away from the cursed mirror and left his room.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Renjun swallows the lump forming on his throat, carefully so that not a single pair of eyes would catch it with the intensity of those that bore on him. He blinks once, then twice. There is an itchy sensation forming at his cheek but he doesn’t pay it any mind as it could only cause unnecessary movements and right now was not the time for that. As much as he wanted to scratch that particular spot, Renjun couldn’t even afford to squirm in his seat at the slightest.

His robes are usually quite comfortable, but they’re not when he’s just forced to sit straight and banned from making something as trivial as flinch. The headdress is heavy and the pins Sicheng used to place it on his head is irritatingly poking his scalp. At the end of the path in front of him and his father, the emperor, the doors open. The brief squeak echoes around the throne room as everyone waited in bated breaths for the expected guest.

Renjun takes one last sigh, as if to comfort himself. His eyes wash over the intricate patterns of their door, remembering how they’d felt under his touch. Sicheng had told him they were in gold, and that it was a color meant to comfort. Blindly, Renjun tries to reach out to that comfort. The disappointment that comes after that is pretty much welcomed. This once, he was partially glad he couldn’t see the vibrancy of colors.

“Lee Jeno, commoner of the South.” The doorkeeper utters, as the mentioned walks in all in his commoner glory. 

The emperor looks like he’s happy, to which Renjun could not understand, but he trusts his father enough for this so he decides to offer the guest with a soft smile of his as well. Said guest is a man who bears the name Lee Jeno, head bowed as he walked in slow but long strides. When he reaches the front of the emperor is when he bows down as a greeting. 

Renjun meets his eyes when Lee Jeno lifts his head, small and glistening, squinted as if he’s cautious. And there are dark pools as pupils, not like Renjun’s crystal ones.

_But it doesn’t make it less beautiful._

Renjun denies that the thought actually came from his brain, and that it sounded so much like Sicheng’s voice.

Lee Jeno wore a simple shirt and trousers, and boots that seemed heavy but durable in travelling. His coat and other belongings must have been shed at the front doors. There is a belt made of leather strapped to his thigh where settled what Renjun saw was a dagger. His face was sharp, jaw chiseled and lips thinned with a perfect bow, a stray dirt dotted on his cheekbone. Lee Jeno indeed looked like a commoner, but he didn’t look like he’ll be stepped on.

“I came as what my family has promised,” the commoner says, eyes still on Renjun but words addressed to the emperor. Renjun was pretty sure he’ll get in trouble with that, but the thought becomes unlikely because his father only chuckles.

“I am glad that you have,” the emperor says, “my youngest son, Renjun, have waited for you long enough, Jeno.”

With that, Renjun looks away, opting to stare at the spot above Jeno’s hair as he spoke, “He would not have to wait any longer, Your Majesty. I am here now, and I will be here for long.”

In that moment, Renjun comes up with a conclusion: Jeno does not know what he is saying, nor what he is doing. The moment Jeno comes to know of Renjun and his incapabilities, he won’t stay for long. 

This moment, Renjun wishes he could see the comfort of the blue in his robes Sicheng told him about. 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Marriage was a life-long bond of promise and of love. At least the emperor and empress were merciful enough to give Renjun a chance to get to know his future life partner and give him the chance of knowing if he was ready for a marriage seal or not. It was better than getting them married right away when Jeno had arrived in their kingdom. At least they gave Renjun the time he needed to prepare himself for this.

Despite that, their mercy could only stretch for a certain length, because the marriage will still take place in not less than five weeks.

Lee Jeno had a chamber of his own prepared by the palace, and had arranged his attendants. The boy had been lenient at accepting all the offers, opting to stay at some inn in town until then, but Renjun’s brother, Crown Prince Kun, had insisted and did the preparations despite Jeno’s futile attempts to refuse. 

Truthfully, Renjun didn’t mind. Renjun didn’t mind Jeno’s presence at all. He didn’t care if Jeno lived in the palace, if he kept on waiting for Renjun at the gardens to have breakfast together only for the prince to not come every single day, he didn’t care if Jeno noticed he was avoiding their arranged time to meet in the library to talk and supposedly ‘get to know each other as betrotheds’. 

And somehow, it irks him that his commoner husband-to-be did not even bother to be sullen about this all.

“Sicheng.” Renjun calls out. It was bright in the morning, and the prince had only been done putting on his robes for the day. His attendant opens the doors to his bedroom, and initiatively adjusts the prince’s belts and footwear. Through the reflection of the mirror, Renjun watches, “What color is it for today?”

Like he always does, softly but straightforward, Sicheng answers, “Emerald, Your Highness.”

Renjun doesn’t know why he still bothered to ask such a question every single morning without fail. What he knows though, is that he will always end up disappointed at whatever Sicheng’s answer could be. Because what is an answer if he cannot understand the context behind it?

He must have been their kingdom’s laughing stock. The Emperor of the West’s youngest son, Prince Renjun, his eyes majestic to look at but are utterly, painfully useless.

“Your Highness,” Sicheng backs away, “Do you still wish to eat breakfast alone?”

“Yes please.” was the prince’s expected answer. Renjun turned away from the mirror and began to walk to exit his bedroom, expecting Sicheng to follow after his tracks. Except that the attendant did not. Instead, Sicheng remained in his spot, only turning around to frown at Renjun who had glanced at him in wonder.

The blankness of a lowly attendant’s eyes were no longer staring back at Renjun’s crystal orbs. In their place was the more familiar warmth Renjun had known back when he was years younger as a child. Sicheng moved to walk a few steps, now closer to Renjun, the worry in those eyes getting more prominent up close, “Renjun. You cannot keep on doing this. Avoiding your husband-to-be will not cancel your wedding nor delay it.”

It was Sicheng dropping titles. It was Sicheng being the lifetime friend he promised himself to be to Renjun. It was Sicheng being a true brother. Renjun had understood, there was no point in denying it himself. And even if Renjun were to oppose what he had uttered, the prince could not bring himself to say this aloud. What he did instead was to slide the doors open and go out of his bedroom, and out of his suite, not even bothering to recognize the other attendants that greeted him with a bow of their heads. Still, Sicheng went after him, hot on his trails.

Unexpectedly, as Renjun not-so-gracefully exited his room, Jeno stood at the very hallway by his door. Renjun had stiffened at the surprise, but eventually caught himself in less than a second. 

Jeno had worn a much simpler set of robes than Renjun’s, gray in the prince’s eyes but a pale shade of pink to others. He was standing upright, as if he hadn’t flinched at the sight of Renjun. Jeno’s own attendant stood by him, head bowed in the prince’s presence.

Renjun thinks about how his emerald robes would look beside him.

“My Prince,” Jeno greets him. Renjun wished his voice was less than sweet, “I was hoping you could join me for breakfast.”

_Avoiding your husband-to-be will not cancel your wedding nor delay it_.

It was as if Sicheng, who stood behind him currently, was whispering in his ear: _You know better than to not listen to me._

There is hesitance, but Renjun jumps to what he thinks he should have done all those days back, “Of course.”

The walk to the gardens where their breakfast was beautifully set up was borderline uncomfortable. Both of them stood side by side as they walked without a single word being exchanged. They trudged along the hallway, passing through rooms with their attendants following right after their tracks. The servants and palace officials they passed by smiled at the sight of them spending time together, Renjun didn’t realize how much he dreaded those gazes until today.

When they reach the gardens, Renjun glazes his eyes over the stone path that leads to the wooden platform. On it, a table is perfectly set up with cloth and dishes, cutlery ready to be picked up. Jeno had been the one to lead him through the path, taking one step for each stone tablet. Ground covered in a blanket of grass, they are surrounded with the fragrance of pollen and fresh air, birds chirping and sunlight tickling the exposed parts of their skin. 

“They have been setting this up every morning since I came,” Jeno starts, but he doesn’t turn back to Renjun and keeps on walking, “Food is always portioned for the both of us, but I let Jungwoo eat with me since you never came.”

Renjun could not help the defensiveness in his voice, not after he is caught red-handedly avoiding the commoner, “I’m used to having my mornings alone.” But Jeno had only chuckled at his response. The prince grimaces at the lack of bitterness from the other. 

“I’ve been told, Your Highness.” Jeno only turns back when he reaches the platform, stepping on it first. He looks down on Renjun before offering a hand to the prince.

Renjun looks up at him as he sports a disbelieving face for quite a while, until he snaps out of his trance. Out of courtesy—or so he insists—the prince takes it, his soft palm being clutched by a warmer and calloused one. Renjun sweeps off the thought of his hand looking small in Jeno’s, and Jeno levers him to step onto the platform.

Surprisingly (although Renjun won’t admit that it’s a welcomed gesture), Jeno doesn’t let go. The commoner only makes Renjun sit on the cushion before going around the wooden table to take his own seat. Renjun gulps, hands on his knees, to avoid himself from clearing his throat. He really didn’t want Jeno to know that he’d been flustered to be treated like this.

Renjun pretends to not see the grin on Jeno as the latter sinks into his own cushion from across.

They both say thanks for the food, picked up their chopsticks, and started their meal. 

They’re silent, only the sounds of their utensils are heard alongside the sound of nature around them. Out of unconscious pettiness, Renjun decides to look at Jeno over his cup of tea. The commoner had been ungraciously stirring on his own cup, then began to hold it with both hands as if warming himself with it. When he sips, his eyebrows furrow at the hot liquid, eyes blinking off the steam. Renjun looks at the slouch in Jeno’s posture, though he still managed not to look out of place. Was this an act? A talent he perhaps practiced all his life?

He didn’t even notice that the foreign commoner had met his gaze until he spoke, “Your eyes are beautiful, My Prince.”

Jeno sounded like someone who grew up in the palace. It was so unlike his posture. 

Renjun’s lips curls, “They are not, Jeno. You do not know what you are saying.”

“I believe everything that comes out of this commoner mouth is nothing but truth,” he insisted, “Your people weren’t lying when they said that your eyes were something not to look away from.”

“Is that what they truly think?” Renjun places his cup back down rather harsher than he’d intended. A commoner like Jeno shouldn’t see a prince being agitated, but Jeno hums in affirmation. “I am glad then. All my life I thought they looked down on me for not being able to see things like they do.”

_To see things like you all do._

He doesn’t let Jeno speak as he continues, “I am saying this again: you do not know your words, Lee Jeno. My eyes are merely just crystals, but beautiful eyes are meant to see beautiful things, and my pair do not.”

Renjun thought that he could block Jeno’s tongue with that, but the latter only replied with a rash tone, “Don’t you think the blooms in your gardens are beautiful today?”

“Yes, they are—”

“That just proves that you are seeing beautiful things then.”

“Jeno,” Renjun frowns, “All I see with these eyes are black and white—monochrome. I could be blind and it would not make a difference.”

Jeno only smiles at him, “Even the blind can wish upon rainbows.”

And this exchange should have irked Renjun, or at least disappointed, but he found himself spending the rest of breakfast with the commoner.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

If Renjun wasn’t wallowing in the comforts of his chambers, he could be found in the palace’s library with his nose buried under books and scrolls. He would settle by the windows, knees cushioned under him, the sound of nature becoming his background music as he indulges himself in words. Sometimes it’s poetry and short stories to be entertained with, sometimes it’s politics and bylaws. Today though, the prince was invested in scrolls with calligraphic poetry.

It was in the middle of the afternoon, only having done with his studies for the day. The lessons were tiresome and uninteresting so to make up for it, Renjun decided to fill himself with the magical and unrealistic.

He traces a finger across the characters, basks in the scent of the tea served on his table.

“My Prince.”

Renjun doesn’t have to look up to know whom the voice belonged to. He merely blinks.

“Commoner.” He greets back without much excitement in his voice. Renjun had to put his point across, that he didn’t want Jeno to ruin this moment he had reserved for himself. But he was soon proven of the commoner’s hard-headedness, because Jeno only invites himself to walk closer to the prince’s area, either completely disregarding his dismissal or was just too dumb to comprehend that.

“Do you like to read, Your Highness?” Jeno asks, his fingers lightly running across the scrolls kept on a shelf.

Renjun wasn’t planning on acknowledging the other’s presence, much more answering his question, but the prince found himself doing so anyway. “I do.”

Then that was that, for a while at least. The prince took his time reading through scrolls and parchment, only taking a break to sip on his teacup. Jeno stays in front of him, as if waiting for further recognition of his presence to which Renjun did not entertain. His attention shifts from the silk of his robes, then back around the area of the library they were in, then to Renjun, and to the sight of a courtyard just outside the window Renjun sat beside. 

Renjun had been stealing glances, although he would never admit that to himself. The commoner had nothing but a curious stare at everything he laid his eyes on, and the prince held back his tongue to even indulge into the other’s questions. Currently, though, Jeno had been stroking the sequins of his robe, silk fabric dancing around his long and callous fingers.

With this, Renjun momentarily abandons his scroll and mildly clears his throat. Then he gestures Jeno to take the seat in front of him, which the other had gladly taken. The prince picks up his steaming tea, takes his sweet time to take a sip, before dismissing their guards and attendants. 

Sicheng had exited the room right after, but Jungwoo remained by Jeno’s side, waiting for his master’s call for his own dismissal. Jeno must have sensed the impending uncertainty of his own attendant, because he nods once and sends him out. 

Now that they are both left alone in the confines of the prince’s library, Renjun rests a palm over the surface of the wooden table, then gently, as if in a soft rhythm, he begins to tap his nails on it. Jeno had watched the movement with his eyes, before his gaze blindly crawled up to the prince’s arm until they met each other eye to eye. Brown orbs to crystal ones.

Neither of them opt to blink. 

“What are your intentions, commoner?” Renjun was the one to break their spell of silence. 

Renjun takes pride at the slight twitching of Jeno’s eye upon being asked. At least he knew how much the question had affected him, especially since Renjun made it sound like a harmless one although a single wrong answer would cost Jeno his head.

Still, without fail, Jeno had answered, “I came to fulfill a promise, My Prince.”

It was either Renjun had missed something, or that the commoner was outright lying. He searched through the other’s eyes, complete tunnel vision to those orbs. His monochromatic sight makes him see the dark brown in utter black, so deep and dark as obsidian. There’s no glint in them, no evidence of shaking, just there staring back at him unblinking. 

Renjun feels something run across his back, like the ends of needles gently poking his skin one by one, until they crawl up to his nape. He barely contains his shiver.

Jeno must have noticed this, ever so observant, senses always on edge, because he finally blinks and starts a story, “The emperor is a good man. My family had lived off to the harvests of a farm near the borders of the mountains ever since. When the war broke out, my mother had been carrying me in her belly, a month before due.” His robes brush against each other as he shifts his arms, “Then there was the emperor, your father, killing terrorists that crowded our home. My father could not have been more grateful, insisting on giving him more than our crops for the poor lives he had saved, but he had refused saying it would only cost us more poverty. And so, he offered the emperor a promise.”

Ah yes, the war that had turned historic. It was during Renjun’s birthday, as he had remembered. It was those times where Renjun and his mother had been kept safe in a room, the youngest prince’s lids barely open for his dysfunctional eyes to be seen, but his ear had definitely heard the sobs that time, although it wasn’t loud enough to be kept in Renjun’s memories.

“My father offered me,” Jeno utters. His semblance crumbles, and all the practiced and stiffened posture disappears, “He offered me, to spend my life serving your kingdom, said that they could just have another child to complete their family. But your father had been merciful, My Prince, because he didn’t allow a child to be slaved. Instead, I was to be married to his youngest.”

Renjun abandoned all grace and hastily exited the library.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Afternoon tea was not as much dreadful to Renjun, except when he spent it with his mother. Even the sweet breeze of summer that danced in the courtyard had failed in comforting him. By the bushes, there awaits his mother, sitting on a soft cushion on the ground at the other side of the table. The captivating cutlery and a few kinds of china is set above the silk-clad tabletop. 

Renjun knew it was too late when his mother had looked up and saw him stalling a few feet away. So he steps closer, kneels and settles down on the cushion saved for him. They didn’t even exchange pleasantries. The Queen had only offered a smile, supposedly sweet but it just looked wicked to Renjun, before she began to serve dried tea leaves to the mortar.

“I’m surprised you made it,” she starts, hand moving to retrieve the pestle and beginning to crush tea leaves, “Your adviser had told me about you planning to study late after your lessons.”

Renjun watches as his mother continues the process of tea-making. He waits until she starts to drain flavor with hot water before he answers back, “I wanted fresh air.”

No, he just wanted to humor her mother’s invite for tea this time. It wasn’t too late to change his perception of his mother, right? Not when he was about to be married off to a commoner who seemed too uncomfortable to fit right in the palace.

His mother only chuckled softly. Renjun doesn’t know if she’s bought his reasoning or not.

The empress had been quite involved with Renjun’s life until his third birthday, when his eyes had completely abandoned its grayish hue to a complete crystal-like appearance. Kun had called it beautiful, Renjun at a young age never knew what his mother called it, but he knew about the disappointment that curled in her lips. The encouragement as he learned how to spar, as he learned about music and poetry and politics, they didn’t come from his mother. The empress had only watched from feet away, that same hard gaze and furrowed eyebrows directed at him, as Sicheng had been the one who showered the youngest prince with adoration. Growing up, Renjun would scoff ungracefully. His mother preferred to watch him grow on the sidelines, rather than with him.

Renjun watched her wrinkly, but ever so light, fingers work as she pours him a cup of tea. By the smell of it, it was green tea with a hint of lemon. The steam escapes the brim of the cup, then she proceeds to fill her own as she speaks, “How is that boy adjusting to the palace?”

She gestures to his teacup, signaling him to taste. Renjun takes it and rests the bottom on the back of his sleeved hand, bringing it up to his lips to blow on it, “Misplaced.” He says, “But he is doing his best.”

Renjun stops mid-sip to look at his mother through the brim of his teacup at the sound of her scoff, “As he should.” She places her own cup down, “I saw him one time. And he looks such a misfit, acting like that around the palace.”

The prince takes a tentative sip. There was a sudden wave of impatience in him the moment those words were let out in the air, but Renjun knew better. He kept his posture even as the queen made another rash statement, “As expected of a commoner. You ought to teach him, son.”

Renjun sighs inwardly, “Do you know about that promise his family had to keep to father?”

“Yes, of course,” she sips on her tea once more, “Your father had been rash about that before, but he is trustworthy. He is Emperor, after all.” Renjun doesn’t pay mind at the way she purposely avoids any glance at his eyes. 

But Renjun is stubborn, and he wants to irk his mother by staring at her own orbs so that she would turn to him. And he had succeeded, the disappointment in her frown was almost comical. Renjun makes a mental note to ask Sicheng what the colors of her robes were.

The twitch in her eyebrow makes Renjun smile a little.

“Your engagement party is a week away. I made sure that your robes were tailored by the best people. They were the most expensive types of fabric in our country.”

Renjun already knew that. He had expected his mother to do such things, always conscious of what’s at the top, always so focused on perfection. Maybe her meticulousness is something he took after her, although thinking about it like that sends an ugly wrench in Renjun’s stomach. It’s better to think that his trait is actually taken from his careful father.

But of course, even at such thoughts, Renjun could not lift a single finger at her. So he just nods, and sips more of the tea. He preferred jasmine tea. “Thank you.”

Renjun had thought that his mother would stop the unnecessary flaunting there, but he had thought wrong because she continued. “It will be perfect, just seven days before your wedding ceremony. The palace will be decorated only with the best and the rarest of flowers. We will invite the great families of our kingdom, noble men and their children—”

“Thank you,” Renjun says again, his tone purposefully pressing, “With you presiding, I know the preparations are doing well.”

Renjun isn’t thankful. Truthfully, he didn’t see the purpose of holding such an event. People will celebrate his engagement without Renjun himself celebrating as well. What good will it bring right after? More exposure? More bragging rights for his mother? Renjun deemed it useless, but it was not like his opinions are even considered. The palace made sure he was in his duty, which was to be the youngest prince of the royal family; bask in their wealth, expose himself not in politics but in art and music and literature, be married off to a commoner’s son to whom the emperor had made a promise with. 

At this moment, Renjun thinks Jeno was right. Even though he never sees the vibrancy of colors from their courtyard’s flowers, he thinks they’re beautiful. Anything is more beautiful than the empty gaze from his mother.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Feeling a little lightheaded, the young prince doesn’t stop printing charcoal into the parchment. The line smudges at some point, leaving a trace on the side of Renjun’s palm. He only gripped it tightly, drawing more and more lines of black as he drew. The image becomes a harsh one when his lines and curves turn thicker and darker. More traces drew themselves on the side of his hand, until they began to crawl into his palm. 

Renjun is seated on his spot at the library again. There’s still a hot and steaming pot of tea on his table and there are still scrolls of poetry beside it, only with the addition of blank parchments for him to draw on. The current drawing is in his hand, a random picture of whatever had gone through Renjun’s head at that moment. Turns out it was the view from the courtyard; the flowers behind his mother’s form, and the tree that shaded them as they had their afternoon tea. 

That was six days ago. 

Today, he didn’t have his usual lessons. Today, they did a rehearsal, something his mother had arranged saying there shouldn’t be a single flaw for tomorrow’s event. Somehow, it angered Renjun, and so right after, he rushed to his spot in the library hoping to get the steam off. 

An engagement party, they had said. They’ll be performing a ritual, the one their kingdom believes would help to-be-weds prosper in their lives and their soon marriage. Renjun knows it’ll seal the deal, once he goes through it he can never back down from this marriage. It made him anxious, marrying someone he hadn’t loved. 

Jeno had been calm—too calm. Renjun wondered if Jeno wanted this; marry a prince and take half of his power. Maybe that was why Jeno unhesitatingly came to his home, went through that goddamn rehearsal, all because he wanted a share of Renjun’s position in this kingdom. But it wasn’t as if Renjun had much power as a second prince. He never got the people’s trust, deeming him as a monster for his crystal eyes, they were always scared of him, they never talked to him as they did to Kun. What would have Jeno gained? All these thoughts—the tip of his charcoal pencil breaks, his ears catch the pair of light footsteps coming his way. 

“I thought I told Sicheng to not let anyone in,” the prince mutters. It did not come unheard to the intruder of his solitude.

“Then maybe he couldn’t say no to me, My Prince.”

Jeno’s voice was sweet, and his gaze was too. If they had been under a different circumstance, maybe in a different life, this marriage wouldn’t have to be so hard. Renjun looked up, saw Jeno standing by a shelf where his poems were put, with his attendant behind him. The prince’s blood begins to boil, and there’s an ugly type of pounding that starts on his temples.

What was on Jeno’s mind? How could he agree to an arranged marriage so easily? How could he manage a whole day of rehearsal with Renjun and still have the guts to come to him like this? 

“Then,” Renjun carelessly throws his drawing across the table, “I’m leaving.” The tea was still steaming when the prince got up, making his way outside of his favorite library. The peace he had wanted wasn’t there anymore, now that Jeno had intruded. Renjun brushes past Jeno. It didn’t matter to him if he was acting childish, he didn’t care about that. He was on edge, and he does not want to talk—nor see him, even—to Jeno. They didn’t have anything to talk about, it was not like it would change their predicament. Renjun was tired, he had been stressing about this matter for weeks, he did not need more of those. 

“Renjun.”

Upon the sound of his name, loud and clear, the prince stopped in his tracks. 

Renjun’s fists clench themselves under his sleeves, and he sharply turns back towards Jeno. He takes two strides to the commoner, eyes twitching and lips pulled into a deep frown, “How dare you.” Lee Jeno stares at him back with a challenging look. It makes Renjun more agitated, “You do not get to call me by my name, commoner. I won’t let this disrespect slide.” 

Jeno brushed off his words and spoke, even without Renjun’s permission, “I came here in my family’s honor, to thank your father. Not for you.” His eyes bore into Renjun’s fearlessly. 

The steaming teapot would resemble Renjun, if he wasn’t trying to hold in his anger. The statement felt like a stomp to Renjun’s pride. But Jeno was right, he wasn’t marrying the prince to climb his way up to the emperor, not because he wanted Renjun. Jeno had made it clear, in that same library a couple of weeks ago, that he came to fulfill a promise made between their fathers. The way Jeno had said it was like he was being reprimanded, telling Renjun to do the same. Marry in their families’ honor. To keep what was promised, with nothing between them. If he had time to think about it, it would have sounded easy, but Renjun didn’t want to take the time to think, not in front of Jeno. So he walks away. 

When he exited the library, sliding the door harshly, Sicheng was still waiting by the door. “He wanted to talk to you, Your Highness.” Renjun doesn’t spare him a glance.

“I do not care.” Renjun says, “I didn’t want to talk to him.”

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Renjun lets himself be dressed. Rather than just Sicheng, there were three other attendants dressing him in robes. His clothing is double the weight of what he regularly wears daily, and the robes are gilded this time. The cloth is softer between Renjun’s fingers, and it was patterned. He stares back at his reflection, watching three attendants go about his clothing, and Sicheng who only stands at a corner. 

Someone puts a heavy headdress on Renjun’s crown. It held their kingdom’s insignia carved into…what he could guess was gold, by the way it shines against the light. On normal days, he would ask Sicheng about the color of his garments for today, but Renjun could not even bring himself to do that. It was the afternoon now, in a few minutes the sun would start setting, and then the ritual will start in the middle of their town for everyone to witness. After that, he’s going to go back to the palace with Jeno, and between them two will be a promise of a healthy soon-to-be marriage and the country’s blessing. 

This was Renjun’s last chance to back out, run away. He felt the burning of his eyes, but held back the tears. There was nothing that kept him sane for this moment. He had woken up late that morning, a result of staying up for quite a time the night before. And he’d refused lunch with Jeno, even refused to get out of his bed until Sicheng told him to prepare for the ritual. Renjun had done that robotically, accepting the misfortune the heavens had given to him since his birth. He couldn’t change anything now, even though he never got to control his life ever since. Accepting it was the easiest thought to do, at that desperate moment. There was no way to get out of this arrangement, and trying would be pointless. Renjun opted to give up. He was never a fighter, anyway. 

“You look ready, brother.”

Renjun looks up and sees Kun behind the mirror. His crowned prince brother wore his usual clothes, Renjun couldn’t be the one to judge the colors and their symbolisms. Maybe he would ask Sicheng later. For now, he sends a small smile to Kun, “I’m never ready for marriage.”

“I guess no one is,” Kun smiles, wide and bright, it sent a small wave of comfort to Renjun, “Somehow this is still hard to believe. You’re getting married before me. You should take that as an achievement.”

An attendant asked Renjun to lift an arm, and so he did. Turning back at Kun, he smirked, though the smugness behind it isn’t intentional, “I never wanted to surpass you in anything, Your Highness.”

“I know.” Kun takes a few strides towards him until he stands right in front of Renjun, covering the youngest prince’s view of his own reflection. He touched his brother’s chin, “If I had known about this, I would have done something. Even if they’ll have me married instead of you.”

_If_ only Kun did know about the marriage earlier. But he hadn’t, so there was no way out. No last hope for Renjun. 

Renjun now stands at the main entrance of the palace. He could feel the sweet breeze through his clothing, the last traces of spring didn’t give him comfort. True to weather predictions, the sky had been clear, except Renjun could only see an expanse of white above him instead of the blue they all said it held. The guards stood in two rows, and his carriage made its way just in front of him, curtains drawn open, showing his seat for the whole trip to the center of town. 

When he gets back to this palace at the end of this day, he’d be riding on a bigger one with Jeno. It made the bile rise up to his throat.

But Renjun gets on anyway. When he gets settled inside, Sicheng draws the curtain closed, and the sound of the horses’ hooves against concrete could be heard as they took off. Now that he’s alone, concealed from others, Renjun lets a lone tear run down his cheek for one moment. The powder they had covered his skin got erased, the tear leaving a track visible for anyone. Renjun didn’t bother fixing that.

Now that he already shed a tear, it was enough and it was time. Time to give in to his misfortune. 

The ritual starts exactly at sundown when Renjun arrives in town. As per tradition, Jeno is already a few minutes earlier than he was. Inside his head, Renjun had laughed bitterly. This setup made him realize that he always came to Jeno; when he gets up in the mornings, Jeno is already waiting for him at the courtyard for breakfast, when he goes to pray before turning in for the night, Jeno is already there waiting for him to do it together and now, Jeno is the one who waits for him for this damned ceremony. 

There are people around him, the town folks have gathered to witness the second prince’s send-off ceremony. The fear bubbles on Renjun’s stomach, and his gaze drops. He knew they didn’t want to see his cursed eyes. Instead, he kept his posture; chin up and back straight, only his eyes cast downwards. Keeping himself together as he takes his place beside Jeno, Renjun focuses on the musicians playing in the background. 

Renjun isn’t sure if Jeno is wearing the same clothes as him, but that didn’t matter. They take synchronized steps towards the altar, Renjun still keeps his eyes on the brick aisle. He only stopped when Jeno had stopped beside him. Renjun takes a peek of the altar. It stood on a platform, the incense was lit and a priestling had banged the gong twice. They both slipped off their slippers and stepped on the platform on socked feet, taking a kneel on the cushions. Under his sleeves, the trembling of Renjun’s hands becomes worse, and he’s afraid that someone might catch him feeling anxious, so he hides them deeper. 

Beside him, Jeno takes the red string to be wounded around their shoulders; a symbolism of their fate of being meant to be together. They did not deserve it. They weren’t meant to be together, they’re together because of external forces and not because of the pull of fate. But Renjun lets Jeno sling the string around him carefully, and eventually, around himself. Renjun continues to look down. His eyes burned again, and he only glared at the monochrome floorboards of the platform. 

His breaths begin to uneven when Jeno’s done, and it was his turn to pray for a healthy relationship. Renjun did just that, despite the opposing pounds of his heart, and folded his hands. He forced his quivering lips to move, and soon, his tongue formed practiced words of prayer towards their gods. They were empty prayers, they didn’t come from his heart. Renjun had the mind to not feel guilty, they threw this marriage to him, and he thought he never deserved a happy marriage with Jeno. Not when they both didn’t want this, not when they’re only marrying out of obligation and a stupid promise between their parents. 

Just as they rehearsed the day before, they both turned towards each other, shifting so they sat facing each other, knees touching, the red string around their shoulders kept them close. Renjun kept his gaze down without bowing his head.

Then, as light as the wind, ever so lightly that no one else would have been able to catch it except for Renjun, Jeno speaks, “Only look at me. Only think of me. There’s no one else here except me.” Renjun didn’t. “I need to see your eyes, Renjun.”

Renjun’s crystalised eyes snap up to look at the commoner, “You don’t.” Jeno didn’t say anything, only burned Renjun with his own orbs, as if saying _Keep your eyes here, keep looking at me._

And it was comforting, knowing someone—even if it was Jeno—was willing to look at his greatest curse. His vision tunneled on Jeno’s face, even when the boy had to take the bowl of blessed rice wine handed by the priestling. Jeno took it with two hands, and lifted it up against Renjun’s lips. Renjun parted them instantly, this time, his eyes never left Jeno’s. The wine tasted more bitter than it usually does on his tongue, but he swallows it down. 

After his turn, Renjun takes the bowl and offers it to Jeno’s mouth. When Jeno opens up, Renjun slowly tips it off, watching as the liquid enters between Jeno’s thin lips, then watching him gulp it down. He puts the bowl back down, and Jeno moves closer, arms going around his shoulders, and then he removes the red string around Renjun. The prince does the same. When they got up to face the crowd, the sun had finally settled into the horizon. The musicians began playing a faster tune, they hit the percussion harder and plucked the strings faster, and the crowd claps around them. Renjun sees his brother Kun with Sicheng beside him, clapping for him as well. He didn’t dare look at his parents, they probably did the same.

Everyone was celebrating, except for him. 

Renjun rode the carriage with Jeno on the way back to the palace. They didn’t talk, nor did they look at each other. The ride was short anyway, and they didn’t feel the need to interact. The palace was alive when they got back. Noble families and scholars arrived in their own carriages and there’s music and dancing. The royal family had arrived before them, and welcomed them with a feast. It was the extravagant engagement party his mother had prepared. 

Renjun immediately gets sent to his room to change his garments. This time, a much lighter one without the headdress, a set of robes he didn’t have before. He didn’t have the energy nor the willingness to go back, but he knew he couldn’t do that. So when he returned to the hall, the celebration had already started. On his throne, Renjun’s father sat and on each side of him was Kun and his mother. The people are gathered around, watching a group of dancers on a platform at the center of the hall. They wore satin robes, and basic leather shoes. Renjun stood with Sicheng, watching the performance with much interest. He watched the dancers move gracefully along the traditional music as he evidently avoided the stares from the lot of strangers around him. If Renjun looks back at them, he’d visibly shiver, and he couldn’t let people see that. So he kept his eyes to where it was safe to look at. 

“They’re wearing red dancing robes, Your Highness,” Sicheng whispers from beside him, as if sensing Renjun’s curiosity at the colors the dancers wore, “The color that represents good luck and luxury.” 

There were times Renjun wished he didn’t have eyes that limit his sight. But as he grew up, he had grown used to it and always let Sicheng tell him things. Right now, though, it didn’t feel right for Sicheng to tell him the colors the dancers wore. He doesn’t want anyone to tell him things anymore. It feels like he’s had enough of that. 

But some things are just beyond his control. Like his eyes being unable to see colors, this marriage, the dancers finishing their performance and his father currently beckoning him over. Renjun walks across the hall with everyone’s eyes on him, his own pair cast downwards. 

“Everyone is here to wish you luck in marriage,” the emperor says, his heavy hand coming up to pat Renjun’s shoulder.

“And I am thankful.” Renjun replies. 

“Where is your future husband?”

“He…” Renjun takes a second to look around. When he cranes his neck to look behind him, Jeno is already greeting his family, “is here, father.” Renjun steps back, so that he stands next to Jeno. He remembers yesterday, when his mother had said: “At least look decent with each other, look in love. People will want some romance from you.”

And Jeno seems to remember the same thing too, because he turns to Renjun and a smile graces his lips. Renjun blinks once. He should have expected something like that for this evening, but he was still caught off guard. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Jeno’s smile, but it was sudden, Renjun didn’t know what to do except return a small one.

“I miss your dance, son.” Everyone turns to the empress. Renjun gaped at his mother for a while, their rehearsals never told him anything about performing a dance for the guests. But instead of sensing Renjun’s uncertainty, his mother only turns towards the crowd, “He has been dancing ever since he was little. I am sure everyone would like to see.”

And she wasn’t lying. Renjun had been taught how to dance since he was little—at least his family let him enjoy the arts—and the strangers had obviously perked up at that. Despite hesitantly, Renjun trudges towards the platform. Jeno helps him up. When the musicians start playing again, Renjun dances. Sicheng had told him he wore purple robes for tonight, and he had learned that dancing in purple was pleasing to the audience’s eyes. He danced in front of black and white people, it was a feat itself that he managed to look at them briefly. 

Renjun moves his limbs accordingly, movements synchronized with the hitting of percussion mixed with woodwind and strings. Dancing wasn’t exactly a passion, it was more like a hobby while he was growing up. Renjun loved it, but not enough to feel himself burn. Unlike when he sits at his usual spot in that library, reading and writing poems and all sorts of literature, painting his dreams on blank parchments with charcoal. But art was art, and he loved every form of it. 

With a last twirl, Renjun stops. He bows, a signal to everyone to start clapping. And that, they did. Renjun let them see his crystal eyes just for this moment, if doing so meant he could see how people reacted to his dance. 

Jeno waits by the edge of the platform, offering an arm for Renjun to take along with another smile. Renjun softly grips his arm and gets off. He didn’t smile back nor look at his future husband in the face. 

Dinner was right after that. Jeno earns the seat next to Renjun in their family’s long table while, to the youngest prince’s discomfort, he takes the one across from his mother. The feast is served; trays of fruits and meat and a variety of vegetables laid out on the table but Renjun only pays attention to his cup of tea. From the next table, he could almost feel Sicheng’s worried gaze. Renjun tries his best to get along with the conversation, even the political subjects his father and Kun is going about. His mother stays silent while eating her meal, so does Jeno. The musicians never stopped playing songs from the other side of the hall. 

Renjun forces a piece of vegetable he couldn’t even care to look at in his mouth. Kun speaks from beside their mother, “How about sharing a room? Have you two made arrangements?” 

The youngest prince stops mid-chew. Jeno and him barely saw each other, Renjun mostly avoided him around, how would they sort out their room arrangements after marriage? Living separately was an option, but either way, their first night as a married couple was expected to be spent with them together in one room. Just like the ritualearlier today, it was tradition. And they believed it would strengthen their bond as a couple. Now that it was mentioned, Renjun was reminded that he should have thought of this beforehand, thought of an excuse that would satisfy his family about the matter. 

“We decided to take it slow,” Jeno had been the one to pipe up and answer, “We thought it was better to take separate rooms after marriage and decide if we can share one after some time.” They didn’t decide on anything, but Renjun thought that was better than saying they haven’t got anything.

Renjun sees his mother’s lips curl, and with that he knows a disagreement is going to come out of her so he steps in, “We didn’t get to be fully comfortable around each other for the past weeks. I hope you all would understand that we might need some more time.”

“But tradition will be as it is, Prince Renjun,” the emperor says without glancing at the mentioned prince, “After your ceremony you both are expected to sleep with each other on your first night.”

Renjun was pretty sure he couldn’t stomach that. Sleeping with Jeno, making love with him even if they never had love between them in the first place. Renjun was certain most royal marriages were arranged, some just like his, so he didn’t understand how people would expect a couple out of love would willingly give themselves to each other fully. Ah yes, tradition will be as it is. 

To mask the discomfort trying to make him retch on the spot, Renjun takes his cup and lifts it up to his lips. He forced the jasmine tea down his throat, even if the hot drink burned.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

The wedding is five days away. 

Renjun feels numb now, and he finds himself impatient for the cursed day to arrive. Maybe after their wedding, Jeno would not try as hard as he does recently. Maybe after their wedding, their families would be satisfied and Renjun will be able to loosen at least a screw from his lungs so he can breathe a little more properly. Or maybe Renjun will never be used to it, Renjun’s life as the useless second prince would take a turn. There’s a lot of maybes, but still, Renjun finds himself waiting for the ceremony to come. 

The day after the party had been a whole day of briefing. People have come to see them, Renjun and Jeno together at the same time, to discuss their wedding; who to invite, scheduling rehearsal, picking a type of tea to serve their guests. It had been hectic, especially if one was too eager to skip preparations and just get to it right away—it had been hectic for Renjun. 

Jeno, though….Renjun doesn’t know. He didn’t have the same eagerness to read Jeno for the whole day they spent together. 

Currently, Renjun is in his room, although it’s an odd time to be in his room. It was afternoon now, just time for the tea time his mother had invited him. Renjun knew Jeno would be there because Sicheng had told him. Instead of meeting his mother at her study for tea, Renjun chose to mope in his bedroom. He isn’t up for anything else these days, he just wanted to laze around until he gets married, waiting for the moment misfortune decides to slap him across his face again.

“Would you like to spend time at the library instead, Your Highness?” Sicheng’s voice cuts through the silence. Renjun keeps his stare outside the window where a flock of birds cross the sky until they disappear behind a cloud.

“I’m fine here,” he sighs out. Renjun runs a hand through his hair, “I would like to take a nap, please. Tell my mother I felt sick.”

Sicheng leaves the room. Renjun moves to close his blinds, shielding his room from the harsh afternoon light. His mattress dips when he goes to lie down, too tired to even go under the blanket. 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"Your Highness."

"You're here again." Renjun's hand halts from roughly sketching on a parchment, he looks up to Jeno, "What is it?"

Jeno takes a peek at the prince's drawing of a lonely lotus flower, messy lines of charcoal on parchment, "I was hoping you'd like some company. The sun is about to set soon," his head turns towards the open window, "they say it becomes prettier when someone watches it with you."

Renjun found it amusing. These past few days, both of them established to be civil around each other. Renjun knows that any conflict between them will only make this arrangement hurt, more unacceptable. Jeno must have thought of the same thing as well, so both of them settled on a middle ground. A truce. They have come to terms with the fact that they will get married not because they want each other, they will get married because it is what was agreed between their families. The least they could do was tolerate each other if they did not want more of the spotlight upon them. 

So with Jeno like this, a somber look on his face and eyes almost glassy with unshed tears, Renjun concludes that the commoner had been feeling lonely. And that he wouldn't understand that kind of loneliness. His loneliness was different from Jeno, they had different lives before all these. Both lonely, maybe, but different. Renjun didn't know what he should say because he didn't have any idea what difference would a sunset make if you watched it alone or with someone beside you. Someone like Renjun wouldn't know, he could not watch the sunset the way Jeno could. The way other people could. 

Still, Renjun's chest makes a single pound and he knows what it means. And it felt scary now that a temporary remedy to his own loneliness was here, he wasn't sure if he'd take it. 

The library gets filled with a pregnant pause as Renjun thinks, ponders, until he finally opens his mouth, "Okay. Sit with me then."

Jeno sits on the cushion across Renjun, but he shifts so that he's facing the window. Renjun raises an eyebrow when Jeno doesn't say a word but soon lets him be, opting to go back to his prior work. They stay like that for a while—Renjun on his drawing and Jeno admiring the late afternoon sky—until Jeno breaks the comfort that started to build between them. 

"I don't hate you, Your Highness."

Renjun didn't expect such to come out of Jeno, but he lets him speak anyway. 

"It's hard for the both of us, but maybe we should at least try." 

The smile Jeno gives him is different. It was smaller than usual. Jeno's eyes don't turn to crescents, the corners don't crinkle, just a small lift in the corners of his lips. Maybe because this was the first time they've talked without spite, but somehow it's the brightest. Renjun doesn't know what to reply. He doesn't know if he has to smile back, say that he agrees, that he already accepted the marriage they both are trapped in. Renjun contemplates. 

"Your clothes," he loosens his grip around his charcoal pencil, "In what colors are they?"

Jeno seems to be taken aback, but he answers anyway. "Green, My Prince."

"Sicheng says it is good to wear yellow whenever you feel lonely. Or sad."

"Is it working for you?"

Renjun meets his eye, "What do you mean?"

"You are wearing yellow robes, My Prince."

Jeno said it with a light chuckle chasing after his words, making the prince look away out of embarrassment. Renjun remembers it now; earlier, he had asked Sicheng about it. 

They stay silent after that. While Jeno faces the window, Renjun keeps his gaze down at his work. There's a cacophony of thoughts in his head weighing him down. 

Across him, Jeno gasps, "Today's sunset seems to be prettier. The sky will be clear tonight, full of stars."

Renjun blinks away from his haze, "Oh." Then he turns towards the view Jeno had been admiring, seeing nothing but the usual black and white. 

Renjun could never admire the sun as much as Jeno could.

"How does it look?" The prince mumbles, staring right into the endless monochrome his vision allowed him to see even if it made his eyes hurt. It was loud enough for Jeno to hear.

"As warm as it feels." Jeno replies.

The prince turns to him, "Sicheng says it's a burst of orange."

Jeno only hums. A fraction of sunlight casts his face. Renjun realizes that Jeno looks better now than when he first arrived at the palace. When the brightness had turned to a low dim, Jeno spoke to Renjun again. 

"Red feels like your passion. Maybe like that time you painted that," then he gestures towards the large frame near them. It was Renjun's painting of the courtyard, the one where he had randomly dipped his brushes on colors he couldn't see, then splashed it on the blank page. Sicheng, and even everyone else, had praised him. They said that the palace in a burst of colors were a beautiful touch. 

Renjun's finger twitched. Jeno spoke again. "And love, too. Just like the way your lovely attendant tells you everything you have to know everyday."

"And orange," he shifts, then folded his hands on the table, "is just like the fruit." Jeno chuckles. "It's sweet."

Renjun pays no mind in the way Jeno begins to speak comfortably, opting to listen to him. 

"Yellow is warm. It is like the warmth of the sun. That's how you will know it's yellow, My Prince. Although sometimes it's sunlight, sometimes it's the smiles of the people."

The warmth of the sun, he had felt it just moments ago. And he had felt warmth in Sicheng's presence, and in his brother's smile.

"Blue," Jeno pauses, probably to think, "is when you feel sad. Or tired. Green is the smell of the courtyard in the morning after the rain."

By now, the room only has moonlight as illumination. 

"There is a whole spectrum, My Prince." Jeno says, "Maybe you cannot see them, but colors are always there."

"What about purple?" Renjun blurts out before he knows it. Embarrassment claws at his stomach, but he does not make it known.

Of course, Jeno has answers. "Your life is purple, Your highness. A color of a royalty like you. When it feels extravagant, majestic, then you will know it's purple."

Renjun only stares at Jeno. By now, Sicheng is surely waiting by the door to help him to get ready for dinner. Probably, Jeno will have to do the same. He shrugged off the thought. Renjun thinks the atmosphere turned bearable. So much like yellow. 

Maybe Jeno is yellow. 

He voices this out.

"You are yellow." Even in the dimmed library, with only the moonlight through windows allowing him to see, Renjun could see the curiosity in Jeno's gaze. He takes in a deep breath. He lets the cacophony of thoughts deafen him, and he gives in to the reality given to him. "In this marriage, take care of me."

Jeno smiles again. Still small, but so much like yellow. 

**Author's Note:**

> the summary was actually the ending hhhh but yay!
> 
> a few TMIs (that no one cares abt but i like oversharing) about this fic: 
> 
> 1\. i wrote this months ago but [aya](https://twitter.com/Iuvmarcus) just had to relive the noren royals arranged marriage energy few weeks ago and i dusted this off the closet!!! hope u liked this baby <3
> 
> 2\. this is actually an unfinished fic. the original word count is 15k (unfinished...i know ;-;)…i decided to cut it there bc i love open endings ha ha totally not because i lost the touch to finish this one ha ha
> 
> 3\. was going to post this for noren day but i tried to finish the whole thing. which now you know didn't end well hahaha
> 
> 4\. the detail about renjun having this some sort of made up visual condition was born when i got asked "how would you describe colors to a blind person?" my answer was to let them feel colors instead. few days after that, i dreamt of not seeing colors except black and white. so i randomly added it and liked it enough 
> 
> anyway! thank you for reading <3 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/reonjeolmis) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/wegotjamsdude)


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